Christmas Cofradίa Style

I’ve been waiting for the past couple of weeks for some mind-boggling realization to hit me so that I could bless you all, yet again, with a little taste of personal reflection … but nothing’s struck, and I assume many of you are curious what I’ve been up to over Christmas break. I’d love nothing more than to fill this blog with stories of wild bus rides, beautiful beaches, and lush green mountainsides; unfortunately, for that you’ll have to look back at my emails from Costa Rica. I’ve spent nearly the entire break in Cofradίa with the exception of a brief, boring trip to Belize.
Shortly after the preceding blog, I joined six of my fellow volunteers as well as the owner of the school’s property, Ben, on a three day excursion to San Ignacio, Belize. Ben’s daughter, Larissa, had just finished her first year of high school there, and he needed to go collect her. His trip just so happened to coincide nicely with the time when many of our visas would soon expire, so we piled into the giant, yellow van that quickly acquired the name of Big Bird and set off for Belize. It was a long, complicated trip full of various border crossings, smuggling Ben across the Honduras-Guatemala border (his visa was far past due), insurance issues with Big Bird, lunches at adorable Guatemalan huts, gas station ice cream stops, and hours of uncomfortable naps. We arrived in Belize around 8:30 Friday night and went out for pizza and burgers. The next day two of the other girls and I spent the day wandering San Ignacio “downtown,” which got boring rather quickly. Later that night we went out to a local club with the other volunteers and then stayed the night with a friend of Ben’s – a medicine man of sorts, Marcos has a delightful little place right along the river about 20 minutes from town. Diede, Carla, and I slept in an open, elevated hut covered by a bay leaf roof and woke up the following morning to the sun reflecting off the beautiful, clean river and birds filling the fresh morning air with music. It was really nice, and I would have loved to stay longer. But, after a quick breakfast, we jumped back into Big Bird and made our way back home to Cofradίa.
It was certainly a different Christmas this year. Not to say that it was bad; just different. I spent Christmas Eve baking cookies and fudge to take with me to Norma’s house, which made me feel strangely like my mother. That night Carla, Jeremy, and I went to Norma’s house for tamales, arroz con pollo, fireworks, and good company. My parents called me from my grandparents’ house, so I got to have a short Christmas conversation with some family on Christmas Eve. They also were lucky enough to be serenaded by Sofia and Emily to the tune of “We Wish You a Merry Christmas.” Later that night I met up with a local friend to set off more fireworks. The tradition in Honduras is to celebrate Christmas on Christmas Eve, eat tamales, set off fireworks, dance until some 5:00 in the morning, and then spend all of Christmas day sleeping; I, however, decided to call it a night after fireworks.
On Christmas day I went over to the other volunteer house for a delicious meal of Greek pasta, green salad, Spanish espinacas, stuffed green peppers, cous cous, grilled potatoes, and chocolate stuffed mini bananas. It was fabulous to have good food that wasn’t cooked in the saturated vegetable fat that they insist on using with every dish here. We spent the rest of the day drinking, playing cards, listening to music, and simply enjoying each others’ company. That evening I was able to talk to more family when my parents called from my uncle’s house. As I was unable to spend the holiday with my family, it was really nice to at least be able to talk to them.
New Year’s Eve was rather similar to Christmas. We had another scrumptious meal of Greek salad, pasta in marinara sauce, spinach and feta stuffed empanadas, bread with Tzatziki, and white wine. However, instead of spending the rest of the evening at the house, we decided to wander down to The Rocks for the “party” that was supposedly to be held there. After an hour or so, a few of us decided that an evening filled with drinking awful Honduran beer and dancing either with fellow gringos or with the large selection of 12-year-olds present was an insufficient way to welcome 2009. So, Diede, her sister, one of our local friends, and I decided to go to a local dance club, CableSol… which was, likewise, a mistake… or so it seemed at first. Apparently the New Year’s traditions here are as different as the Christmas traditions: no one does anything until after midnight at which point they all go out dancing, again, until some 5:00 in the morning. So, needless to say, there was no one at CableSol. For about an hour it was only the four of us dancing across the empty dance floor to the beat of either reggaeton or merengue. At midnight we went outside to enjoy the fireworks and decided we would give the dance club another hour… besides, it only seemed fitting that we at least stay up until my New Year’s Eve. After midnight the locals started to trickle, and eventually flood, into the club. So, eventually New Year’s was a lot of fun. It just took a little while.
Perhaps my most significant accomplishment of the past weeks was accomplished on January 31st: I completed my LAST graduate school application!!! Now that I no longer have applications or essays to work on, I’m not quite sure what to do with my new-found freedom. But, considering I haven’t read a book purely for enjoyment since I started college, I’m hoping to get some good books in during my remaining two months. I moved into the other volunteer house yesterday and now have a pleasant selection of used books at my disposal… as well as consistent running water; a larger, less stuffy room; and a more comfortable house that is considerably closer to The Rocks and, therefore, to free food. I’m rather pleased with my move. :)
School starts up again on Monday. My plan is to continue teaching through the end of February and then spend my last week and a half or so traveling primarily in Guatemala, which means I really only have two months of teaching left. I can’t believe how quickly my time is passing here. I’m not sure I’m ready for this experience to be over! But, at the same time, I am so looking forward to what lies ahead in 2009. It’s so exciting to think that I have absolutely no idea where I will be this time next year… well, besides in graduate school somewhere. I submitted applications to San Fransisco, San Diego, Boston, Seattle, and Athens, Georgia. So, it seems I will be living somewhere more or less coastal. I can’t wait to find out where!
So, in two more days I will be working with 5th graders doing my best to pick up where Miss Betsy left off and fill their heads with some sort of knowledge over the next two months. Wish me luck! I’ll keep you posted on how it’s going!

I hope you all enjoyed the holiday season! Love you guys!

And you guys thought the last post was long...

This week has been an enlightening one. It’s so easy for me, the educated American girl who has known little tragedy in her life, to pass judgment on the Honduran people. I see the many problems they face and what, to me, seems to be logical solutions without stopping to consider the multiple obstacles they have had to overcome. How dare I pretend to understand the tribulations that these people have encountered? I’ve never known a hungry day in my life. I’ve never had to choose between feeding my family and getting an education. True, I’ve had to carry the burden of one murdered loved one… a tragic event that has molded me as a person and changed my life forever. Many of you know the same pain and fear I felt January 12^th nearly 6 years ago. Imagine, if you will, multiple murdered loved ones – husbands, children, uncles, and friends. But you never get a trial or an arrest; you never know what happened, who did it, or why they did it. Imagine the void.

It’s not uncommon here to see children without fathers, siblings with different fathers, mothers without husbands, and children that are completely unruly. I’ve fallen into the nasty habit of assuming the women to be careless, the men to be irresponsible, and the children to be entirely undisciplined. Lately, however, I’ve been learning more about some of the students at my school. Here’s a glimpse at some of their stories:

Meet Jennifer. A mere 5 years old, shy little Jennifer is one of the smartest children in her class. Jennifer has an adorable smile and a sweet personality; unfortunately, she also has a family that can’t afford to look after her. Due to her young age, she only has class until 11:20; however, most days she spends the remainder of the morning in our class keeping busy until some random family member actually comes to pick her up (we’ve begun planning art for that time of the day to enable her to participate more). It’s a far too common occurrence for Jennifer to spend a portion of the day crying from stomach cramps because she’s hungry. Thursday, for instance, her lunch consisted of an orange, a bag of chips (which her sister stole from her), and a juice box. She has two siblings at the school: an older sister in third grade with a malicious personality and an older brother in sixth grade who is known for picking fights and stealing the younger children’s lunch money. I fear it’s only a matter of time until Jennifer, too, adopts the same bitter disposition of her siblings.

You’ve heard me talk about Sofia and Roberto before. Last Saturday was Roberto’s 8^th birthday, so Jeremy and I went over to their house for a baleada dinner to celebrate. While we sat at the dinner table I talked to their grandmother, Doña Norma, about the family and some of the many trials they’ve had to endure over the years. The conversation started with Sofia and Roberto’s cousin, Emily, who is living with the family for the next few months with her younger sister and expecting mother. (Side note: this means that there are now FOURTEEN people living in their tiny, two-bedroom, adobe house!) Emily is 5 years old and looks nearly identical to Sofia. She sat on my lap as her grandmother explained to me how her father was killed in Guatemala two years before. Emily flipped through a photo book showing me pictures of her father and various other family members while I hugged her close and held back tears. The thought of losing your father at such a young age without a rhyme or reason – pure assault – just breaks my heart. We continued to talk, and I learned that Emily was not the only child in the family to suffer such loss. Sofia’s and Roberto’s fathers both succumbed to similar fates – one was assaulted in the nearby city of San Pedro Sula and the other in the not-so-distant little town of Copán. I see the murder scenes littering the front pages of the newspapers every day, but I suppose I never dared to think about them affecting my own students.

Yet another of Sofia and Roberto’s cousins stood at the door of the kitchen while we talked. Every now and then she would hobble into the kitchen to get a plate or glass for one of her family members in the living room. Doña Norma explained that she was diagnosed with a severe bone disease several years ago. She had spent two years in the hospital undergoing various treatments and now, at 16 years old, was heavily medicated and significantly behind her class in school. Norma kept referring to the girl’s mother as her “lost daughter.” When I asked her why she referred to her as such she explained that her daughter had tried to illegally migrate to the United States and was never been heard from again. No one knows what happened to her or if she’s alive.

The evening birthday party was void of cake or presents (as it’s essentially impossible to afford such luxuries when only one person in their 14-member household has a job). It was, however, full of giggling children, smiling faces… and tragic stories. I hate to think: if one evening in a house of 14 people revealed such heartbreaking tragedies about a mere four members of the household, what obstacles have the other 10 endured? And, beyond that, if these are only some of the tribulations of ONE family in Cofradίa, how many of my students have similar stories to tell?

Lately I’ve had a difficult time chastising my children in class. When Andrea refuses to stay in her seat and is, rather, at the board with her arms wrapped around my waist, I have a hard time telling her to sit down. We were supposed to go visit her house last Sunday night but had to cancel our plans after multiple warnings that where she lives is a “very dangerous” place where assault is highly common. Who knows what things she sees at her house during the afternoons while her single mother is at work? When Anyi tells one of her classmates that they’re full of sh*t, I don’t quite know how to punish her for something that I know she heard directly from the mouth of her father. How do I explain to Osman why I don’t like to be handed a drawing of two smiling men happily shooting each other? I suppose that in the states something like that might be frowned upon, but it carries so much more weight here. The things that they show on the news here – murder scenes, faceless victims, bodies scattered across the scene of a car wreck – are like being in a court room daily.

The things that these kids have seen and faced surpass the tribulations that any of us at home can imagine. The problems that they are forced to take on far exceed their maturity level and rob them of their hope and innocence at such a young age. Nonetheless, they still come to school every day with smiling faces, bouncing pigtails, and waist-high bear hugs. It never ceases to amaze me that, despite the poverty, hunger, and tragedy that the Honduran people have endured, they seem to remain continually content. These people are so much stronger than I give them credit for. I should not judge them; rather, I should admire their strength and perseverance.

For those of you that have actually stuck with me through the past two pages of introspection, I suppose I’ll continue a bit further with what I’ve actually been doing over the past two weeks. We have embarked on Christmas season here at Cofradίa Bilingual School. With only 3 days of school remaining before the two-week vacation, we’ve spent the past days cutting and coloring snowflakes, decorating paper picture frames for Christmas gifts, and learning the Christmas songs that we discovered only days ago we were supposed to present at the school presentation next Wednesday. The sixth grade girls have opted out of singing Christmas songs and have chosen a slightly more “modern” option: dance. So, they’ve spent at least an hour per day of the past week blasting their reggaeton (how that qualifies as Christmas music I have no idea…) and shaking their hips in a manner that no sixth grader should know how to do while the younger children watch through the barred window.

Jeremy and I have continued to make an effort to get to know the families of our children. We’ve now visited Sofia, Raquel, Kevin, and Osman’s houses. It’s so wonderful to meet the families of our kids and to see their homes; it allows us to better understand and identify with them. Unfortunately, I only have three more days with my adorable, little first-graders. During the next week, three of our teachers will be returning to their respective homes. As such, after the vacation I will be taking over fifth grade for Miss Betsy. Part of me is very excited for my new class – I feel that I have the knowledge to teach so much more than 2 + 2 and one-syllable words –, but I’m sad to leave my kids. Class is about to get a lot harder for them since Mr. Jeremy speaks NO Spanish, but I am confident that it will be beneficial for their English skills.

On Thursday we had two soccer games versus San Jeronimo Bilingual School just down the street from us – colegio versus colegio and teachers versus teachers. Our colegio lost 3-2 in a shoot-out, but our teachers won! It was SO nice to play soccer again. I went from playing at least two days a week at home to not having played in two months! It was really a lot of fun. I hope that we can do it more after the break.

Last night Diede and I went to San Pedro with some of the instructors from the other school. We went to a bar called Klein Bohemia (Little Bohemia). It’s an adorable little hole-in-the wall with live music and a really laid back atmosphere… and… are you ready for this?... SALSA LESSONS! We finally found somewhere to salsa! They have lessons Thursday nights, so we will definitely be hitting that up. They also have frequent showings of independent films, live shows, and open mic nights. I’d seen the bar in Lonely Planet and I knew that the San Jeronimo instructors went there somewhat frequently, but I hadn’t had the opportunity to see it for myself yet. I’m pretty excited about the discovery.

With the vacation only days away, I’ve finally decided what I’m going to do over the break: nothing. It completely blows me away that I am living in a country with such an incredibly low cost of living and am still completely poor. But, I’m actually looking forward to spending the vacation in Cofradίa. I’ve been invited to spend the holiday at a variety of homes, but I think I’ll spend the day at Doña Norma’s with Roberto, Sofia, and Emily. I am taking a short trip immediately after school ends to Belize to satisfy my visa requirements – you’re required to leave the “country” (which, due to their agreement, includes Honduras, Guatemala, El Salvador, and Nicaragua) once every three months in order to avoid a fine. So, I am going to join a bus-full of fellow volunteers on a three-day excursion to Belize from December 18^th to the 20^th… hopefully (I try not to rely too heavily on “plans” here).

I think that pretty much sums it up. For those that are still with me (Mom, Dad, Grandma and Grandpa…) I’m sorry to have burdened you with such a lengthy novel. I know it’s Christmas break, and the majority of you had no desire to read something so long. I hope you’re all doing well, and that you’re enjoying the holidays. I miss you guys, as always. ¡Besos, abrazos, y feliz navidad!

And a few more pics...

(Thanksgiving with Norma and the kids and cute pictures of a couple of my first-graders -- Melanny and Nicolle)

Yes, I'm still alive!

I’ve been getting a few complaints regarding the amount of time that’s passed since my previous posting. For this I apologize. The majority of my free time has been spent writing graduate school application essays lately, so sitting down to write up a blog is a little less-than-appealing at the moment. And then there’s the added difficulty of being able to post on the slow computers here; I went into San Pedro last Sunday, as per my weekly routine, only to find that the internet was down. Anyways, here’s an update on what’s been going on the last few weeks here in Honduras:

Life in Cofradίa is a daily battle. I pull myself out of bed at 6:00 am, stumble upstairs to see if by some miracle the water’s working today, throw on some clothes and one of the three pairs of mangled shoes that I’ve gone through since my arrival, and set off on the mile and half trek to the school. The first thing that crosses my mind as I step through the giant metal gates labeled ‘Cofradίa Bilingual School’ is “God, I hope the Spanish teachers are here today”(subbing for an unexpected absent instructor is probably one of my least favorite parts of this job). I cross the dusty, rock-littered soccer field to the faculty lounge, which consists of a one-room building containing four tables pushed together surrounded by orange, padded chairs – not the most luxurious accommodations, but the doors lock providing a fabulous escape from the screaming children. I sit down and prepare math worksheets for the first graders, gather them together, and cross the soccer field once again to the office where the barely-functional copier stands. Making copies is a time-consuming process as the copier can handle no more than 5 sheets of paper at a time. Once finished, I wander to the kitchen for a baleada or pastellito and back to the faculty lounge to prepare my chemistry lesson.

At 9:30 the bell rings for recess, and I make my way to the first grade classroom. As I step through the gate to the small children play area I brace myself as 5 or 6 screaming first graders come flying towards me with arms open wide: “Miss!” I drag my skirt of 6-year-olds across the playground and step into the classroom to set my stuff down. From here the day truly begins. Jeremy and I have finally established a fairly regular routine that’s only altered on Fridays and on the unfortunate days when the copier is not working. From 9:40 to 11:20 I teach math to my remedial class which consists of three main groups of children: those that are practically at the same level as the other class but lack the discipline to apply themselves in the larger classroom, those that are behind but are working hard to catch up, and those that still cannot show me how many fingers 6 is. The span of abilities makes it difficult to teach one lesson, so I’m trying to do three at once. Fortunately, with only 8 children, I’m managing to do so; though it’s a little hectic.

At 11:20 I walk over to the junior high classroom for Chemistry. That class has been going moderately well. We’ve managed to complete three labs, and we’ve covered the first two groups of the period table. Unfortunately, however, maintaining control of the class is significantly more challenging than teaching. Since children tend to begin working as early as 6^th grade in Honduras, these kids seem to think that they’re adults in 7^th-graders’ bodies, which makes forcing them to listen a real challenge. It’s really sad: none of the teachers enjoy teaching this class. In fact, there are a number of periods throughout the day that they go completely teacher-less drifting around the classroom listening to reggaeton, trying to break dance, or playing Uno. For me, it’s not that I dislike teaching junior highers; on the contrary, I love them. But these kids are such a challenge. They have attitudes as though you couldn’t possibly teach them anything new, and you really have nothing to threaten them with to force them to listen. The administrators don’t seem to be at all concerned that their education is going to waste, and poor grades mean nothing to the kids. Last week I finally lost it with some of the boys. I told them that if they didn’t want to listen that was fine; just don’t interrupt the rest of the class. I’m not being paid to be here, and I really have no obligation to force them to learn. The only thing at stake here is their future. I wasn’t saying it to force them to listen but, rather, because that’s how I truly felt. Regardless, it seemed to get their attention… for a day. In the end, the best I can do is the best I can do. What they choose to take in is up to them.

The lunch bell rings at 12:05. I gather my things and wander to the kitchen to find out what unknown substance lies on our lunch plates today. I grab some lunch and a bag of purified water and meet the rest of the teachers in the faculty lounge to escape the kids for 30 minutes. At 12:50 the bell rings once again and I rejoin my first graders for English until 2:10.

At the end of the day I collect Sofia and Roberto, two of the kids in the school who have been coming to the house for Math and English lessons every day. Their grandmother is, for lack of a better term, the janitor of Cofradίa Bilingual School. After she finishes her cleaning duties, she stops by the house and picks them up on her way home. I’m growing incredibly attached to this family. Sofia is the one pictured with me in the posting a few weeks back. Her brother, Roberto, is in second grade and equally adorable. Norma is a tiny Honduran woman with the sweetest disposition and a true interest in the well-being of the volunteers. We’ve been to her house more than once now: a tiny three-bedroom house that holds 11 people – her husband, her daughter, Sofia, Roberto, and their siblings and cousins. Her son lives up the road in a large house and has one of the most polite families I’ve met since my arrival. I truly adore that family.

After Norma picks up Roberto and Sofia, the rest of the afternoon is whatever I make it. Usually it consists of a liquado, the internet café, and sleeping; although, Wednesdays and Fridays Jeremy and I have begun teaching an English course for a boy that lives down the street for a whopping 40 lempiras per hour (approximately $2). He’s a really polite kid with quite a bit of English already, so it’s a breeze to teach him. The goal is to better his conversational skills, so we just sit there and talk to him for an hour or so.

The search continues for a decent dance club in Honduras. I’ve now been dancing at two places in Cofradίa and one discoteca in San Pedro Sula… disappointment everywhere I look! I’m coming to the realization that just because Honduras is a Latin country does not automatically mean that it embraces its culture’s various dance styles as strongly as some of its neighboring countries. But fear not, I’ve not yet given up hope. If there are salsa bars in Boise, there has GOT to be something here. It’s simply a matter of finding it. Fortunately, I now have someone to join me in my search: a week and a half ago we received a new volunteer from Holland… and she’s female, so I now have a female roommate! She too is interested in tracking down some place that plays something besides reggaeton. Wish us luck!

The most significant event of the past few weeks – and perhaps the most exciting event that’s taken place since my arrival – happened a week and a half ago: Honduras versus Mexico World Cup elimination game! It was SO much fun!! It rained the entire game so that by the time we made it home we were soaked to the bone and freezing, but it was worth every raindrop. Some of you are aware of my minor infatuation with the sport of soccer; as such, this experience was sort of a dream come true for me. Honduras won the match 1-0 (yay!) off of an own-goal by Mexico (lame…). But, Honduras dominated the entire match, so they deserved the win in my opinion. It was so amazing to watch such talented players only yards a way from me. I so hope to have the opportunity to watch another game before I leave.

Thanksgiving was a little bit different this year than most, but it was still a really nice holiday. Naturally, I worked during the day (believe it or not, Honduras doesn’t celebrate Thanksgiving). In the evening I enjoyed a delicious cena at Iguanas with three of my roommates, Miss Norma, Sofia, and Roberto. Cena is a traditional meal here that consists of refried beans, cheese, eggs, plantains, and tortillas. ¡Que delicioso! After dinner, Diede, Jeremy, and I went back to the house and watched Zoolander while enjoying some make-shift sangria that Diede and I had prepared the night before. It was a pretty exciting evening. My favorite part of the evening, however, was playing ‘Guess That Voice’ with my family back home – a game that consists of all of my family members getting on the telephone and me trying to differentiate who’s speaking. I must say, I was pretty proud of myself. The only ones that threw me for a loop were Derek (I hate it when your little cousins grow up!) and Cathie (which family member is this?) All in all, it was a good holiday, but I certainly missed everyone back home.

Plans are still a little uncertain for Christmas break, but it’s been determined that they will not include my brother. Tickets were just too expensive for him to come down, but it looks like my parents may be coming down in February. So, I’m hoping he’ll be able to join them then. As for me, I think I may make my way up to Guatemala with one of the other volunteers. Or, who knows, maybe I’ll just stay in Cofradίa. Norma has invited me to join them for Christmas, and it would certainly save money. But, we’ll see.

I also found out this week that one of my friends from Costa Rica is coming down January 13^th. I’m soooo excited!!! AND another of my best friends, Jesse, will be coming down to join me in some traveling my last week here (March 1 – 11). Between the upcoming Christmas vacation and visitors, I’m realizing the rest of my time here is going to FLY by! I can’t believe I’ve already been here a month and a half! I almost wish it would slow down a bit. I don’t want to leave yet!

Well, I suppose I’ve wasted enough of my precious wireless internet time writing a blog for one day. I really need to get back to work on my graduate school applications. I hope that all is well for everyone at home, and that you enjoyed your Thanksgivings! I love you all so very much, and miss you tons!

Heartbreaking disparity

Honduras is a country of such stark contrasts. Breathtaking hills of green vegetation serve as backdrop to absolute poverty and destruction. The children that play in the streets paint a deceptive picture of love and family while the majority of them don’t know their fathers and are barely offered an upbringing by their mothers or grandparents… after all, it’s difficult when they’re one of six, each with different fathers. The abstinence that is taught by the many Catholic and Christian churches that fill the streets with their music into the late hours of the evening is clearly disregarded early on as many of the girls here are pregnant by 18. Little is expected of the men, however, besides contributing to the high population of impoverished children and passing along the deadly virus that has marked San Pedro Sula as the AIDS capital of Central America. Most of them take absolutely no part in their children’s upbringing even when they live as nearby as across the street – many don’t even claim them as their own. The social gap that characterizes the majority of Latin America is more prevalent here than ever; there is absolutely no middle class, and I’ve seen very little of the upper class besides those wandering the mall in San Pedro Sula. At the school each day, rotted smiles grin at me from my 1^st-graders’ cherub faces as they spit lies and deceit. Never have I seen such dishonesty, theft, and violence starting from such a young age. Stealing from one another, stealing from us, lying about nearly everything, fighting with their classmates, chucking rocks at one another, mocking the pain of their so-called friends… it’s sad to see how quickly these kids have learned the behaviors that seem to characterize their country.

Despite the terrible behavior demonstrated by the 200 students at Cofradίa Bilingual School, I fear that leaving them is going to be the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I’m sure it’s every teacher’s lot to be plagued by the question of “what ever happened to…?” Not to belittle the experiences of the teachers at home, but the questions that overshadow my daily experiences go so much deeper. What will happen to these children in the years to come? How many will actually stay in school? How many will escape the poverty that plagues their country? How many of the girls will learn that there is more to life than raising children? Perhaps some will be lucky enough to leave Cofradίa and make it to San Pedro Sula? Maybe even one or two will make it out of Honduras? But, and this is what haunts me, how many won’t? How many won’t finish school? How many will never realize their potential? How many will never escape Cofradίa and the poverty that festers here? How many will become another murder or AIDS statistic? What will happen to them? And what’s worse: I will never know.

This teaching business is so much more work than I ever imagined it would be. I have gained a renewed respect for the teachers at home. I come home exhausted every afternoon from a full day of giving everything I have to help these children land on the positive side of my aforementioned question. As such, I repeat: leaving may be the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

A brief update of what I’ve been up to: As you know, I took the GRE Chemistry Subject test in Guatemala City last weekend. I won’t know for six weeks how I did, but now I can finish the rest of my applications. My goal is to finish them in the next month so that they will be done when I leave for my incredible Christmas vacation in Costa Rica with my brother!

Jeremy and I are splitting the first grade class nearly in half for two hours every morning. I am working with the remedial children on their Math and English, or, more appropriately, number and letter recognition. And my most exciting development: I’ve changed the colegio Reading class to a Chemistry course! The kids actually asked for it! Some of their siblings are learning Chemistry in high school, so it’s more appealing to them than a Reading course. By then end of the week we will have covered matter and its basic properties, and next week we will begin on the periodic table. Thanks to Mikey, I have a book of simple labs that use easily-attainable materials, so I’m able to do some labs with them. Thanks, Mikey! :)

This weekend I’ll be testing out the dance scene in San Pedro Sula. One of the temporary workers at the Rocks is leaving to work on a cruise ship in a matter of weeks, so she and I as well as a few others are going to go dancing Friday night. Fingers crossed that there are some good dancers in the city! Then Saturday night casa pequeña is hosting a farewell dinner in her honor. We found out yesterday that we need to submit report cards by Friday in preparation for parent-teacher conferences Saturday. So, all things considered, it’s working out to be a full weekend! I’m looking forward to meeting some of our kids’ parents. We’ve been trying to assign homework, and I’m hoping that I can convince some parents to work with their children on their assignments. After all, they can make so much more progress one-on-one than we can two-on-twenty-one.

Well, I suppose that’s about it for now. I hope that this posting finds you all well and much, much colder than me. Haha. ¡Besos y abrazos a todos! ¡Adiós!

P.S. To those that are still wanting to contribute: it’s looking like the best mode of contribution will be monetary. There’s a rather heavy tax on packages. So, if you give money, we can go into San Pedro Sula to purchase some of the many things that we so badly need. Jeremy and I really want to purchase workbooks for our kids — teaching from the board is completely futile when working with first graders. If there’s something in particular you’d like to get for the school, just let me know how you’d like us to use the contribution. Feel free to email me at briana.flaherty@gmail.com if you’re interested.

A quick note from el pueblo de Guatemala

Hey, all! I just wanted to drop a quick note to let you know that a) I am safe in Guatemala City and b) I've completed my exam.... I wish I could say incredibly successfully, but in all honesty I have no clue. I didn't do too well on my practice exams, but, as most of you know, I tend to be optimistic about these things. :) Besides, I figure that even if my scores aren't a shining demonstation of what an incredible chemist I am, at least the effort I went through to take the exam should be proof enough that I do, indeed, want to be in graduate school. Sometimes I think that's the only reason they make you take it anyways... to prove committment. Well, hopefully two eight-hour bus rides (here and back) and at least $450 in expenses (between the exam and traveling expenses) shows commitement, right?

Anyways, just wanted to let you know I'm safe. We had an amazing American-style meal after the exam, and I'm really enjoying Guatemala City. I think anything's better than San Pedro Sula... :p We head home tomorrow at 9:00. I'll try to post another blog next week. Love you guys!

A morning at the mall

Sundays are becoming my luxury days: I’m sitting in the mall in San Pedro Sula using their high speed wireless internet and drinking a latte, and I’m in heaven… or, at least, as close to heaven as you can be when sitting in a mall food court next to a play area full of screaming children. Oh, the things I’ll put up with for good coffee and fast internet!

The start of the morning was a little less luxurious: casa grande flooded again. It’s amazing that our house that rarely has running water has flooded twice since I’ve been here. On top of that, our sink fell off the wall last week. There has been progress in the kitchen, however: we moved the non-functioning fridge along with it's rotting contents outside where it’s now been sitting for nearly a week waiting to be picked up. Check out the attached pics for a glimpse at what was creating the god-awful smell in our kitchen.

It would seem that winter struck Honduras during the past week. Not that it’s necessarily cold, but it’s chilly enough that I am using a blanket at night and really have to pep talk myself into my nightly cold showers. In fact, I’ve been going days without showering often due to lack of water, but sometimes simply because I can not bring myself to step into the ice cold stream of water that flows (or trickles) from the PVC pipe in my bathroom. It doesn’t help that the water in our house only seems to function after 10:00 or so in the evening. An icy shower right before bed is just not appealing… though it certainly is refreshing once I get up the guts to brave it!

This week was the first “full” week of school since I’ve been here. Monday through Wednesday I had my typical schedule: first grade English in the morning followed by middle school Reading and more first grade after lunch. It went rather smoothly, although I’m starting to recognize areas where there is a lot of improvement to be made in the way classes are conducted. Due to our sporadic copier and broken printer, we are often forced to teach directly from the whiteboard… which is more or less impossible, especially with the first graders. The influence that teaching from the board has had on the kids was evident when I subbed for the 2^nd grade teacher a couple weeks back: copy copy copy. That’s all they know how to do. They copy exactly what you do from the board without absorbing any of it. If we’re going to make this work, we must find a way to give them worksheets to work on, so my roommate and I are going to try to get the school to give us some money to go to an internet café and prepare as many copies as possible from some of the books that we’ve found lying around campus. Hopefully that should help the kids actually learn how to spell and read rather than simply regurgitate.

During the latter part of the week we were short 5 teachers due to a “miscommunication” between the school and some of the other instructors. Mirna “miscommunicated” that this weekend was a 4-day-weekend, so they planned a trip to Antigua. Then, due to the many days of school that we missed last week, she changed her mind and claimed that there has never been a long weekend on the schedule. Ah, such wonderful management. So, we compromised and had half-days Thursday and Friday. Thursday I took over for the absent 4^th grader instructor… never have I seen such unruly kids! She left me things for them to work on, which many of them refused to do. Rather, I spent the entire morning screaming at them and struggling to maintain control. It was awful. On Friday I traded my roommate for 5^th grade… he’s been a teacher for a while and has a way of forcing control over the kids. The 5^th graders were a breeze! There are only 9 of them in the class… it was such a relief. Next week, I think, I should be starting my remedial class… hopefully. We shall see. As far as I can tell thus far, things rarely go “as planned” around here.

The majority of my time the past couple weeks has been spent lying on my bed studying for the Chemistry GRE Subject Test, which is now less than a week away. I leave Friday for Guatemala City where I will be taking the exam. I’ve been studying like crazy and still have 5 days and a loooong bus ride of study time left, but I’m starting to get nervous. So, keep me in your thoughts! I really want to ROCK this test!

I finally took some pictures of casa grande and of my first graders. Enjoy!

I hope you’re all doing well! ¡Les quiero y les extraño mucho! ¡Besos y abrazos a todos!

1. My bedroom. 2. The view from my bedroom of the pila... and Dave showering in it (it's the only fairly consistent water we have). 3. The view from our balcony. 4. The kitchen. 5. The source of the stench. :p

1. The first grade class. 2-5. Some of my students.

Life as I now know it

It’s interesting how rapidly the mind adapts to new stimuli. Sometimes I feel as though I’m watching a cartoon… like my mind has temporarily suspended my sense of reality for the duration of my stay here. I was walking home from school yesterday passing middle-aged men on their porches with their T-shirts pulled up above their protruding bellies (as seems to be the fashion here) and half-naked children running through the trash that litters the sides of the road when a rooster stepped out onto the road and joined us for part of our trek home… and it took me a minute or so to realize how odd the whole thing was. Roosters are just one of the many things that have become part of our daily scenery. There’s also the bull that frequents the road to Ben’s house, pregnant stray dogs on every corner, machetes EVERYWHERE (men, women, even older children… but then, “childhood” here seems to end around 14), men with rifles strolling around the school grounds to ward off intruders... all a part of daily life. The oddest part of it all is that not only is this becoming normal, but enjoyable. I am truly beginning to enjoy my time here.
Before I left Boise I made comments, half-jokingly, about encountering machetes down here, but I had no idea how prevalent they would truly be. Although, they no longer instill the fear in me that they once did, because I’ve now realized them for what they are: a tool. Yes, they can be used in violence, and, naturally, that’s the only exposure we tend to have to them at home. But, here they are the most multi-purpose instrument you can get… they slaughter animals, prune trees, chop wood, and, of course, serve as protection. I’m checking into buying one before I come home. Odd, I know, but I think little would symbolize the lifestyle here better.
As many of you know, besides coming to teach, I had a second mission in my journey to Central America of lesser but, nonetheless, significant importance: dance. I had a dream of moving once again to a country, like Costa Rica, where dance was a way of life; a place where salsa and merengue dancers instinctively flocked like the salmon of Capistrano… as far as I can tell, this is not that place. We went out dancing on Saturday night to a local restaurant/bar called Coco Loco’s. We danced all night long with the creepy and (often) old men… practically none of which knew how to dance. NO salsa played. Bachatta music played, but no one knew how to dance to it and so defaulted to the basic merengue step. A lot of merengue played, and, while here they had mastered the basic step, they had little more than that. I think the most exciting point of the night was when they played Michael Jackson, no doubt, for the 10 gringos that had graced their bar that evening. It was still a lot of fun, but my goal of improving my dance skills is not likely to be realized in Cofradίa. I’m hoping to try my luck in the nearby San Pedro Sula soon.
Perhaps one of the most frustrating things that I’ve encountered thus far, second to the incredibly inconsistent water pressure, is an opportunity to better my Spanish. I knew that on campus Spanish usage would be infrequent since the primary goal of the school is to teach the students English, but I had higher expectations of the locals… though perhaps I shouldn’t have. It’s not that I’m not speaking Spanish, but, rather, that their Spanish is so poor that I fear mine may be getting worse from speaking with them. For example, one of the things that I struggle with most is verb conjugation, a skill that the people here seem to have disregarded entirely. I’ve been completely shocked by the number of times I’ve heard things like “no gustar” or “no entender” from both children and adults alike. And, since my last proper Spanish lesson took place in Costa Rica two years ago, I’m finding it difficult to remember the basic conjugations of a lot of verbs. It’s incredibly frustrating. But, hopefully it will come back. Either that or maybe I’ll have to splurge on a basic Spanish book.
Well, I suppose that’s it for now. I miss you all like crazy, but I am really doing well. I’m very happy with where I am and with all the experiences I’m having here… as odd as they may be. Oh, and one more thing – a short advertisement: if any of you are interested in teaching this spring, half of our teachers are only here for the semester and will, therefore, be leaving in December. We could definitely use the help. I won’t sugar-coat it and say it’s easy, but I can promise it will be a learning experience at the very least. If you’re interested let me know!